


A Year in the Life (Expanding Constellations)

by Kikimay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, Family Feels, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Married Couple, Mpreg, Professor Draco Malfoy, Professor Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-27
Updated: 2018-05-27
Packaged: 2019-04-23 11:45:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14331783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kikimay/pseuds/Kikimay
Summary: Based llap115 prompt.Harry and Draco have been married for quite a while, fathers of two Hogwarts students and professors on their own. They reached their balance and are ready to enjoy a quiet year at Hogwarts ... until one of them gets pregnant.





	A Year in the Life (Expanding Constellations)

**Author's Note:**

> All the THANK YOUs in the world for my lovely beta, _Unicornsandphoenix_ , for her incredible attention to detail, precious suggestions and general cheering. I was so lucky to have her as my beta. The title of the story is also her idea. :)
> 
> For _llap115_ : I wasn't able to incorporate the background you wanted for this story, I'm sorry, but I hope I stayed true to the spirit of the prompt. Your idea inspired me so much and this story was such a joy to write. I hope it will bring joy to the readers too.

The Great Hall was overflowing with students. A deep sound echoed through the ancient walls of Hogwarts as the Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, cleared her throat.

“Let us proceed with the Sorting” she said, pointing at the stool at the centre of the hall. “Professor Sinistra, if you please.”

A tall witch, with dark skin and fluttering robes that were reproducing the movements of the planets, reached the central spot and took the Sorting Hat in her hands. She began to readout the names of the first year students.

 _“Albus Severus Potter!”_ she announced, after a while.

A thin boy with dark hair sat down on the stool. The Sorting Hat glided down over his head, obscuring the boy’s concerned expression.

The hat leaned first to the right and then to the left. The boy was murmuring something inaudible. Finally there was the announcement:

_“Slytherin!”_

A long applause followed. Young Albus opened his eyes and turned to the teachers’ table with a warm smile.

Professor Sinistra kept reading the parchment.

_“Scorpius James Potter!”_

The boy was slightly shorter and lanky, with straight blond hair and big green eyes that displayed his amazement.

“Sit down,” the professor said, placing the hat on his head.

“You’ll see how I take my revenge,” someone whispered at the professors’ table.

“I wouldn't count on that,” came the reply.

The Sorting Hat moved gracefully, before announcing with a loud exclamation, _“Ravenclaw!”_

Scorpius jumped off the stool. He smiled at his older brother, who had already taken his place among his house members, and reached the table where the Ravenclaws sat.

Before he sat, he turned towards the professors’ table.

Two of them had followed his and Albus’ sorting with particular attention: _their fathers,_ Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy.

*

“My darlings, I knew you would have made me enormously proud!” Draco said, reaching to his sons.

The boys were about to go in their respective dormitories, but they had sneaked out for a moment to say goodnight.

Draco hugged them both, kissing Scorpius’s forehead and combing Albus’ curls with his fingers.

“I’m very proud,” he repeated.

“We know,” Albus replied with a small smile.

“You’re here!” Harry said, running toward his family. He dragged his sons in a tight embrace and squeezed his arms around them as if his very life depended on it. “I’m so proud of you!”

“Dad, please,” Albus protested, withdrawing a little. “We need oxygen to live!”

Harry let them go with a sigh.

“Sorry for getting emotional, boys. It's just… it's so nice to see you here, at Hogwarts!”

“You told us so before,” Scorpius reminded him. “Hogwarts is the best place in the world–”

“–And it doesn’t matter where we are sorted,” Albus continued, recalling their dad's words. “You’re happy that the letters arrived.”

“I don’t believe that’s actually true?” Scorpius inquired, arching his eyebrows. “Weren’t the two of you betting on which House me and Al would end up in?”

 _“Of course not!”_ his parents replied, too hastily and eagerly to be sincere.

“We’re happy about your Sorting!” Harry replied. “And we would have been in any case.”

“To be completely honest, your dad was hoping for a more… fair result?” Draco admitted, looking at his husband with a pleased expression on his face. “But that’s true. We’re proud of you, unconditionally.”

“Well, thank you for your support–” Scorpius began.

“–But we really have to go to our dorms now!” Albus concluded. “Goodnight, Dads!”

“See you tomorrow at breakfast!” they exclaimed in chorus, running away as quick as the wind.

“Can you believe they used to climb in our bed when they had nightmares?” Draco sighed.

Harry placed his chin on his shoulder and held him against his chest.

“They’re so grown up, I’ll never get used to how fast they grow.”

“Me neither.”

“And they are at Hogwarts.”

 _“We_ are at Hogwarts.”

“We really are.”

Draco turned to his side, to Harry who was staring at him intently. They burst out laughing and fell into each others lips.

“Harry, the students!” Draco protested against his warm mouth, his serious expression melting into a smile. “Harry….”

They kissed again and again, open mouthed and slow, until the sound of someone coughing made them freeze.

“I wanted to wish you goodnight, Professors,” McGonagall began, her intelligent eyes framed by squared lenses. “And may I remind you that a private room was given to you for a purpose?”

Draco opened his lips but was unable to come up with a proper reply, Harry looked at his shoes, red with embarrassment.

“Goodnight,” the Headmistress said, before leaving.

The new professors kept their eyes low until the corridor was empty. Then they burst out laughing once again.

*

Their room was located on the Gryffindor tower. It was small in size, but warm and welcoming, draped with the deep red and gold of the House crest.

As soon as they entered, Harry pulled down the portraits from the walls, determined to preserve his marital privacy. Draco was looking around, studying the furniture and the upholstery.

“So this is where the brave at heart sleeps,” he murmured, tracing a wooden chair with his finger.

“More or less,” Harry conceded. “My old room was similar but… you like it, don’t you?"

“It’s cozy,” Draco replied, turning to him.

He was sporting his most casual expression, but deep down Harry could see his excitement over the location. An old fantasy about shagging in the Hogwarts corridors came to his mind, and Harry gave a feral grin to his husband before dragging him onto their new bed, on which Draco landed with an _“oof!”_ and gave a smile at the pleasant firmness of the mattress.

“Professor Potter, please!”

“What are you pleading for, dear colleague Malfoy?” Harry teased, working on his trouser-zipper, stroking his legs.

Draco instantly spread them, allowing him more space to maneuver, and teasing him with playful bites on his lower lip.

“Malfoy… Draco….” Harry moaned, already hard. “Are you happy, love?” he asked, low and pleading, green eyes darker with desire.

“Are you doubting?” Draco replied, cupping his husband’s erection and stroking it through the fabric of the jeans. “You’re here, with me and the boys. We are together, we’re safe,” he whispered, moving slowly.

His eyes were full of warmth, and Harry felt like drowning in them.

“We’ll see our boys grow and become the talented wizards they are,” Draco added, kissing his mouth again. “And you allowed this to happen.”

“I love you,” Harry moaned, incapable of articulating the depth of his feelings, hoping that three simple words would somehow convey the joy and the elation and the affection. “I love you, Draco.”

His husband grinned, their robes faded in a bath of light.

“Then show me.”

*

The next day Draco held his first lesson as Potion Master to the Slytherin and Gryffindor first year students. He began with a brief presentation of his course, on the history and importance of Potions in the Wizarding World, his biography as newly appointed professor.

Albus was sitting on the second row, next to a rosy child. He blushed and tried to focus on his desk.

Draco felt an overwhelming tenderness for his growing son, dressed in a Slytherin uniform and determined to learn and to be stoic and proper. He almost wanted to reach closer and brush his dark curls away, but he contained himself. Al didn’t need to be classified as his father’s sweetheart on his first day at Hogwarts.

“Today we won’t start with potions and antidotes,” he announced to the class, keeping his voice firm. “We will examine the tools of a potioneer and understand their correct usage. Familiarity with our tools will be the key to success. Watch your cauldrons now, please.”

The young students bowed their heads in sync.

*

“It’s a wonderful day, the sky is so clear,” Harry murmured, looking through the window. Hagrid’s hut was the same as he remembered, a small cabin with ham and pheasants hanging from the ceiling. Still, some things were new, like the moving portraits of rare animals that Hermione and Ron used to gift him at Christmas, or the waving photos of Harry and his family.

“Flyin’ weather!” the half-giant wizard agreed, pouring the tea into a chipped cup.

“Hagrid, you didn’t have to–”

“Don’t be daft!” he protested. “For once I have the pleasure of havin’ ya here. I’ve seen the boys, ya know? Al and Scorpius. They were lookin’ good. I’m happy they got to be at Hogwarts with their parents and stuff."

“Thank you,” Harry smiled. “I might convince them to visit on Saturday.”

“That be great! Ya know, Harry,” Hagrid started, trying to bite on a rock cake too tough even for him. “I’m too old for handlin’ the children. McGonagall still manages, she’s great like that, but I can’t be a teacher anymore, so I see the kids only when they come here. It’s a bit sad,” Harry gave him a small, sympathetic smile and Hagrid found his optimistic spirit again. “But there’s still much to do, over here! The Forest is busy as always and the animals… have you seen the new hippogriffs? They’re such great, majestic creatures! Al and Scorpius will be great on ‘em!”

Harry nodded silently, thinking about what Draco would have said about letting his children anywhere near the hippogriffs.

“I’m sure they can ride ‘em well as you!” Hagrid exclaimed. “You were so talented, and now yer a teacher!” he added, before starting to tear up and crashing his friend into a tight hug. “I’ve miss ya!”

“I missed you too, Hagrid.”

*

A quickie in a broom closet was an uncomfortable, sweaty, and clumsy affair. On more than one occasion, Draco found himself with an elbow pointed straight at the face or exerted much pressure on his abdomen, almost causing himself a cramp in attempt to get closer to Harry.

“Fuck!” his husband whispered, trying to find the right angle. The closet they chose was definitely too small for them, Draco’s head constantly bumping against the wall. “I’m sorry, love, let me just….”

“Be faster, Potter!” Draco protested, a bit annoyed but still very much aroused. “You have lessons in ten minutes!”

“Ouch, fu– in this flying weather? The kids should play Quidditch.”

“You were hired as DADA professor, not as a Quidditch instructor!”

Harry stumbled on his lowered jeans and stilled for a moment. He put one of Draco’s legs over his shoulder and helped him in a more comfortable, albeit contorted, position.   
  
“You’re far too tall for this,” he protested, feeling the toil of his weight.

“Shut up and keep going! You’re almost, almost there… oh!”

Draco’s mouth opened and Harry felt the pleasurable clench of Draco’s muscles around him, his nails planted on his biceps. A quickie in a broom closet wasn’t that bad, after all.

“I wish we could… I wish….”

“We could try all the broom closets?” Harry suggested to his breathless husband. “We never got the chance to do it when we were students.”

Draco nodded, wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck, trying to get closer to his lips.

“We never got to feel this.”

“No,”

“I want to try it now, I want….”

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. Kissing was impossible positioned as they were, but Harry managed to speed up his thrusts until they were both coming. Finally satisfied, he unhooked Draco’s leg, tried to straighten himself a bit, and kissed him fully on the lips.

“Thank you, Professor, that was great,” Draco whispered, dazed with pleasure. “Now come on, the third year students are waiting for you!”

*

Happiness at Hogwarts was like the flow of warm golden light. The stillness of its old walls, the smell of falling leaves and broom polish, dinners in the Great Hall lit by floating candles, the chatting of the students.

On September twenty-first, Albus turned twelve. He already had made some friends and was hoping to celebrate with them and Scorpius, but Draco and Harry were able to steal few hours of blessed family time. They managed to bring a cake to their room and shared the pieces with their children.

Happiness at Hogwarts was seeing Albus in green and silver and Scorpius in blue and bronze, making friends and being carefree. It was making love after a banquet, or stealing kisses in between lessons.

It was perfect, until Draco started to feel sick.

*

Draco was walking through the corridors of the second floor, when a sudden wave of nausea attacked him. It was overbearing, almost blinding. The wizard had to lean against the wall and take long deep breaths to avoid falling.

It felt like a hand had gripped his core, squeezing, and Draco struggled to maintain focus. He pushed himself against the first half-opened door and entered the girls’ bathroom.

No one was there, luckily. When Draco leaned on the sink, he felt free to sob out his pain. Drops of water came out from the tap, he drank them eagerly and managed to wet his wrists. The freshness helped, and the nausea seemed to ease a bit.

Tired and shaking, Draco opened a stall door and sat down by the toilet, determined to stay still as long as it was humanly possible.

“Look who’s back!” a familiar voice chirped from above.

Draco didn’t feel like raising his head to have a look. It wasn’t necessary. The ghostly silhouette floated in the air and threw herself next to him, with a perfectly executed dive.

“Are you dying, dear Draco?” Myrtle asked, stroking her long braids. “You look so pale and sweaty! Are you about to lose your senses and die in here? It would be so lovely to see you become a ghost!”

“I’m not dying, Myrtle, I'm just recovering. I would like to enjoy a little silence as I do so.”

“Oh!” she mouthed. “You would like silence? You would like silence?” she repeated, raising her voice to a shrill howling. She snapped, twirling away in rage. “We meet again after all these years and you don’t even want to listen to me! I remember you, Draco! You used to come in here and talk about your problems, and who was there to listen? Poor, annoying, loud Myrtle!”

“I didn’t mean–”

“I listened and I was a good friend to you! And now I have to stay silent because you don't want to hear me!”

The ghost fluttered away, crossing her arms. Her childish, indignant pout moved Draco to compassion.

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” he grumbled, once certain talking wouldn’t lead to more sickness. “I’m sorry,” he sighed against the cold wall.

It was almost comfortable, just like he remembered, sitting there sheltered from everything and everyone, in the company of a restless ghost.

“I’m glad to see you again,” he whispered, and it didn’t feel like a lie. “How are you, Myrtle?”

The ghost leaped, curious and cheerful once again.

“Same old, same old,” she said. “But tell me about you! You’ve aged a lot! I can see lots of wrinkles on your skin.”

Draco smiled.

“I’m most definitely older, yes,” he admitted without hesitation. “I’m a married man now and I have two sons, but I'm sure you heard everything about that since I’ve started teaching here.”

“I’ve heard the gossip, but boys rarely come up in here and I haven’t got the chance to see your sons. Are they pretty? Do they look like Harry Potter?”

“They do, a bit.”

“You married him in the end!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands. “I’ve always thought that Harry was cute, but I didn’t think he could be interested in you. I remember when the two of you fought. You were just right there when you almost killed each other,” she said, pointing at the floor. “It would have been nice to stay here altogether!”

Draco rolled his eyes, but gave her a smile.

*

As December approached and Draco’s illness did not subside, Harry began to theorise a trip to St. Mungo's, and even an emergency hospitalization.

Draco wasn’t able to hide his physical state from him anymore, even if he tried to contain his husband’s worry. They were happy at Hogwarts after all, he didn’t want to change that.

“That’s it! You’ll go see Madame Pomfrey after you come up from this bathroom. It’s an order, Draco!”

“You can’t give me orders,” his husband replied, raising his head from the toilet. “I’m not one of your Aurors.”

“I’m not in the Aurors anymore, and you will listen,” the Gryffindor insisted, kneeling next to him. He got up from the bed once he heard Draco retching in the other room. “You’ve been sick for too long now, and we have an infirmary in here for cases like yours! It would be dumb not to go.”

“I don’t want to be seen by my new students as I swallow Pomfrey’s potions in a gown!”

“You won’t have to wear a gown, you don’t have to… Draco, you’re sick! I'm going to call her and she will see you. Now!”

*

Poppy Pomfrey arrived twenty minutes later. Draco was lying in his bed, trying to master his full-of-contempt face for his stubborn husband. He almost cursed as he saw Albus and Scorpius running alongside their father.

“Harry!” he protested. “I begged you not to say anything to the boys!”

“I haven’t said a word,” Harry replied, eye rolling. “They figured it out on their own.”

Draco didn’t have time to be disappointed, he tried to mitigate his sons’ anxiety about his state of being, reassuring them with few calculated words.

“Madame Pomfrey is going to see what’s going on and help me get better,” he whispered. “I need you to go outside and wait for a moment.”

“Can’t we stay?” Scorpius tried.

“I’m afraid not, darlings.”

“Let’s go,” Harry said, helping his boys out. He turned to look at Draco one last time, his eyes full of worry. He received a small smile to give him strength.

*

The visit lasted another twenty minutes or so. The Headmistress had sent Professor Flickwit to check on the situation and comfort Harry, as she was unable to come herself.

Harry waited, while behind him a fight broke between drinkers and card players in a portrait. When Madam Pomfrey called him, he jumped up and hurried into the bedroom he had shared with his husband for the past weeks.

Draco was still lying on the bed, his face turned to the window. Harry felt a sudden rush of cold in his veins.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Madam Pomfrey whispered, closing the door behind her.

Harry didn't have the chance to stop her.

“So?” he gulped.

“We’re having a child,” Draco replied in a small voice.

Harry felt as he was hit by a masterful Petrificus Totalus, freezing him on the spot.

“Sorry?”

Draco patted the bed for him to sit on and begin to speak.

“Pomfrey is absolutely positive about it and… and I think she’s right. It’s incredibly rare for two wizards to be able to conceive without the help of potions– you remember how hard we tried for Scorpius! But for me it would be the second time and in some circumstances… given the fact that we already had a biological child….” he sighed. “It happened.”

Harry nodded, stunned.

“It could be because….” Draco paused, took his husband’s hand on his own. “Because Hogwarts is full of old magic and we fooled around a bit too much in the past months. I… believe it’s because of that.”

“The castle wanted you pregnant,” Harry murmured.

“One could… say so, yes.”

Harry’s astonished expression turned into a joyful one. His lips twisted into a smile, his eyes lit up with new joy.

“But this means that you aren’t sick.”

“No, I’m not.”

“And you’re just expecting a… oh God, Draco, are we having a baby?”

Draco tightened his grip on his husband’s hand.

“Yes, yes. We are….” He wasn’t able to complete the sentence, and tears fell down his eyes while a big smile warmed his face. “Harry,” he sighed.

His husband rushed him into his arms, burying his face on the crook of his neck, laughing and tearing up with him.

*

When Scorpius and Albus came in, quivering with worry and overwhelming curiosity, Harry and Draco had wiped dry their faces, but were still blushing and smiling at each other as their eyes sparkled.

“Merlin’s old flowery knickers,” Albus gulped. “What are you about to say to us?”

Harry laughed and drew him in another oxygen depriving embrace. Scorpius almost considered running.

“Sit down next to me, boys,” Draco began, calmer than his husband. “We have an announcement to make, and, well, it’s good news.”

The boys sat down in silence.

“I’m pregnant,” Draco said quietly. “I’m probably entering my third month as we speak. I will need to see the Healers to get more information, but it’s certain: I’m having a baby.”

Albus and Scorpius turned to each other in disbelief, before erupting in some shrill screamings worthy of merpeople.

“Wow!”

“That’s fantastic!”

“I can’t believe it!”

_“Everything happens so much!”_

They rushed to embrace their Papa, giggling and chatting and screaming in surprise. Draco kissed their hair, amused.

“Your papa will need a lot of rest and help,” Harry said. “We didn’t really prepare for this pregnancy to happen, and his body will have to adjust, so I’m counting on you guys to help and not get in trouble, as Papa gets better.”

“Yes!”

“I’ve always dreamed of having a younger sibling,” Scorpius murmured, dreamily. “Albus exploits his privilege as older brother too often.”

“And you exploit being the younger brother!”

“You’ll both be older brothers by a considerable number of years,” Draco said, taking their hands. “And this will make things a bit different with your new sibling. But you are happy about this, right? I need to know before going on. I need you to be with me.”

The boys’ faces became serious, almost too solemn. They nodded.

Draco smiled and held them in another hug.

“Now, run to your classes!” he commanded, turning his face to hide his wet eyes. “You’re already late.”

The boys kissed him and disappeared in a flutter of green and blue robes. All that remained was to inform Minerva.

*

Draco and Harry went to the Headmistress’ office. Together they discussed the plan for the upcoming months. Draco asked for a two days leave to go to St. Mungo's and perform the necessary tests, and he declared that he wanted to carry on teaching as long as it was possible; Harry promised that he would keep on working as DADA teacher, only occasionally helping his pregnant husband.

“It will be difficult to find substitutes right now,” McGonagall said. “And I do appreciate your commitment to the school, but if resignations will be needed, just inform me beforehand.”

“They won’t be needed,” Harry reassured her. “If everything goes as planned, no change will be needed, except for when Draco is closer to his… due date.”

“I will probably just need an assistant,” his husband continued, raising his pointy chin. “I can search for it, if you want me to.”

“That won’t be necessary, and besides, it’s my job as Headmistress to search for professors. I think your proposals are reasonable, and I will surely allow the two days leave.”

*

Draco went to St. Mungo's that very morning, his stay lasting three days instead of two. When he came back, Harry was waiting by the Headmistress’ fireplace, so thrilled he was almost vibrating.

Draco reassured his boys with a smile and Minerva with a small explanation. Then he took Harry’s hand and lead him to their room.

“The healers believe that conception occurred in mid-October,” he whispered against his husband’s lips. Once they closed the door, Harry was on him. “The fetus seems very healthy, and my levels of magic are optimal, with everything considered,” he moaned, when Harry gently bit on his neck. “They think I can carry this child without worries.”

“Thank God,” Harry groaned, dragging him to bed and stripping quickly. Three whole days without Draco, waiting for the news, had been torture. How did he carry on being an Auror for fifteen years?

Draco helped him with his clothes and, once they were both naked, stretched out on his back, hands pressed against his husband’s chest.

“Can we or not?”

“Of course we can,” Draco smiled, caressing him with his fingertips. “I’m just a little bit stunned, must be the effect of the morning potions. I need to….” he hooked a leg on Harry’s waist, pressing their groins together.

Harry understood. He bent over for a kiss, leaning on his arms to not weigh on his husband. He sneaked a hand between Draco's legs and palmed his flushed, hard cock. He gave a gentle stroke.

“Yes!” Draco gasped.

Encouraged by his reaction, Harry continued with a languid rhythm. Draco rewarded him by grinding their pelvis together, so that Harry could benefit from the friction.

They reached the peak slowly, among open mouthed kisses, in the blue light of a December afternoon.

“Tell me everything again,” Harry murmured, lying next to him.

Draco smiled and told him about their baby, so tiny and yet strong and healthy. He whispered the names of the potions he needed to take and speculated about the upcoming months.

Harry cupped his chin and kissed his lips once more.

They fell asleep.

*

The Christmas holidays came and went in the blink of an eye. The Malfoy-Potter family chose to stay at Hogwarts and celebrate Christmas Eve in the Great Hall, among the students who didn't return to their homes.

Scorpius and Albus reached a compromise with their parents that allowed them a certain autonomy to live independently during their days at Hogwarts.

By the end of January, Draco’s pregnancy was proceeding in the best way, and, although the roundness of his belly wasn’t yet accentuated, the students had begun to speculate about the circumstances of the conception.

“… And that’s how those third year Gryffindors, the ones dad loves so much, claim that the conception took place,” Albus said to his brother.

Scorpius moaned and plunged his head between his Charms notes.

“What are you chatting about?” Harry asked, making his way into the library.

After weeks of forced distance, he finally had managed to intercept his children without too many prying eyes around them—Albus and Scorpius were extremely aware of their precarious status as teachers’ children—and without them being surrounded by their small group of friends. Harry was conscious of his sons’ need for space, yet he missed them.

Seeing him approaching, Albus looked around nervously, and Scorpius rolled his eyes.

“Hey!” Harry exclaimed. “Did I really become such an agonizing dad?”

“No….” Albus murmured, reluctantly.

Harry gave him a puzzled look.

“Of course not, Dad!” Albus repeated. “Only… well, you know.”

“I know, you don’t want others to think that you’re the teachers’ favorites and I understand that.”

“So you don’t know what people are saying lately,” Scorpius said, raising his head.

“About you?”

“About you and Papa, Dad!”

Harry shook his head and sat next to his children, taking advantage of the opportunity to chat.

Scorpius and Albus seemed embarrassed at having to share the latest news. Harry urged them on.

“I assure you that I’ve heard all kinds of things during my first year at Hogwarts. Nothing will surprise me.”

“I won’t be so sure,” Albus murmured, turning a sideways to glance at his brother. “The thing is….”

“Bets have started!” Scorpius snapped, exasperated. “The students are betting on everything: when the baby will be born, if Papa is going to go in labor while cleaning cauldrons in his class and where….”

“Where….”

“Where?” Harry inquired.

 _“Where you did it!”_ Scorpius said, turning to a purplish red.

“Excuse me?”

“Where you made our… future sibling,” Albus muttered. “There’s a list of places and the most popular one is actually….”

“Let’s hear it.”

“The Quidditch field!”

Harry raised his eyebrows.

“In the middle of the Quidditch field, yes,” Scorpius confirmed. “Fletcher, the guy from fourth year, swears that he saw you while…you were doing…it.”

Scorpius and Albus looked down, embarrassed. Harry laughed.

“DAD!”

"There's nothing to laugh about!”

Harry couldn't stop himself.

“It’s not true at all, but that would have been such a major quaffle in Slytherin’s hoops. Am I right, kids?”

Albus gave him a dirty look, Scorpius began to gather the notes scattered on the table.

“Worst dad joke ever,” he sentenced.

“Definitely!” his brother agreed.

Together they started to go to their dorms.

“Boys!” Harry protested, disappointed that his subtle irony didn’t receive enough appreciative feedback.

*

“I will pulverize them….”

“Draco….”

“I will turn them into very small chunks to get into a cauldron.” he growled, through his clenched teeth “I will make such lovely potions with my dead students!”

Harry scratched the back of his neck. Perhaps it was a mistake to tell his pregnant husband about the latest school gossip.

“I will poison them, ever so subtly, and I will have fun seeing them crashing down one by one….”

Luckily he had omitted his final joke while telling the story.

“I don’t think we need to be that harsh,” Harry tried in a conciliatory tone. “They’re kids and they must be curious–”

“The object of their curiosity is our sex life!” Draco protested, standing still in the middle of the room. He was busy correcting homework when Harry arrived and started to tell the story. The papers were now forgotten. “We are professors, Harry! Our credibility is everything!”

“Our abilities must also have a certain weight….”

Draco gave him a peremptory look.

“You’re right, yes. But it’s impossible to stop students from speculating, you remember how it was! Your pregnancy must be the event of the year so far, along with the sixth year Ravenclaw fight and that kid who really did crashed into the Quidditch field while–”

“We need to be more menacing,” Draco said. “They must feel a holy terror everytime they enter our classrooms.”

“Love….”

“I won’t have these tiny monsters have a laugh behind my back,” he asserted, bringing a hand upon his barely visible belly.

Harry seized his movement and felt the warm affection for his strong and outraged beauty.

“Agreed,” he whispered, slowly approaching his belligerent, handsome husband. “We’ll find a way to be more threatening to the brats. Maybe with some unexpected thirteen pages paper that will make them less inclined to chat. You have to come closer, though.”

“Why?” Draco replied, tilting his face.

“Because,” his husband began, touching his cheek. “I haven’t told you yet how gorgeous you are.”

“Harry….”

“With your perfect skin and your perfect nose,” he added, peppering his face and neck with kisses.

“You’re hornier than me, and I’m the pregnant one!”

“Can’t help it.”

There idea that Draco was currently pregnant with his baby made him shiver with excitement. Harry felt a rush of adrenaline in the most casual moments, in the middle of a lesson or during a break. His desire for Draco invaded him, and all he wanted to do was to kiss his husband and bend him over the closest available surface, not caring about anyone else around, only tasting Draco, his Draco.

“Harry… let me at least get undressed,” his husband painted.

Harry loosened his grip and watched Draco methodically undress, before leaving his robes on a chair next to their desk.

He stretched out on the bed, slender and pale limbs among the gold and the crimson, and held a hand for him.

Harry sat down next to his nude body.

“This is the happiest I’ve ever been,” he confessed, stroking his husband’s cheek.

Draco’s abdomen was a stiff protuberance marked by blue and green veins, like rivers on a map.

“It is, really?” he asked.

“Yes,” Harry replied, pressing a kiss under his jutting navel.

Draco sighed and ran his fingers through his untamable hair.

“Yes,” Harry confirmed, his mouth descending among the valleys of his darker pubic hair, towards his swollen, hard sex. “My Patronus will shine so bright tomorrow,” he smiled, before giving Draco a sweet, prolonged orgasm.

*

Draco’s plan was successful. The series of homework and tasks he gave to the students took away their desire to gossip, and, since he didn’t want to dissatisfy them completely, he gifted house points to the most talented. Rage and resentment only did so much against the threat of gossip. Admiration helped, especially for those who mattered.

Smiling smugly at his own idea, Draco proceeded to clean the cauldrons after his lesson.

“You must be pleased with yourself,” a deep, slow voice echoed from the end of the classroom.

Draco spotted Snape sitting in his portrait. He never came to see him during his lessons, a sign that he was doing something good perhaps.

“The children are talented.”

“The children are mediocre,” the old Potions Master cut short.

His appearance was as stern as Draco remembered, unyielding gaze and dark, dirty hair, yet he also seemed much younger than he memories suggested, less threatening. He had died at thirty-eight, Draco mused, younger than he was now.

“Talent is rare,” Snape continued, dragging the words with disdain. “Something foreign to the mediocre students you just rewarded for your own interest. I’m surprised, Draco.”

“Why, am I not a Slytherin after all? I know how to take full advantage of other people’s expectations.”

Snape grimaced. “Pathetic,” he muttered.

Draco shrugged and sat down behind his desk to placate the backache that was affecting him since the morning. His baby seemed particularly energetic and heavy. He put a hand on his swollen belly.

“I see that you deemed it appropriate to let Potter use your body for progeny,” Snape said casually.

“They’re my progeny, too.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I believe I do,” Draco whispered. “I’m the one who’s pregnant.”

The old Potions Master nodded.

“Oh, don’t pretend to care for me, Severus!” he continued. “We both know you never did, not really at least. I was part of a bigger strategy, you needed to get closer to my father and his acolytes and gain their trust. I also know I wasn’t the type of child to steal your heart. How could I? After all I was not less effective as bully or less of a spoiled brat than James Potter.”

“Don’t.”

“I’m not bitter, I’m just making an observation.”

“And why are you making this observation?” the portrait asked through clenched teeth.

Draco smiled.

“For clarity, I suppose. Because it’s true.”

The portrait didn’t reply. Draco sighed.

“I gather that you don’t approve of my choices, but it doesn’t matter. I’m a father now. I have two children and another will be born soon. I’m getting ready.”

“Draco… I might not have been your… biggest supporter but….”

“You saved my life,” Draco whispered softly. “You saved me. Without you I would have died.”

“I….”

“Please, let me just be grateful. Despite the reasons behind your actions, you did save me. And because of that I’m here today, with a family. Thank you.”

The painted Snape moved in his frame.

“What do you need?” he asked.

Draco stroked his belly.

“I might need your help when the pregnancy approaches its end. It’s still… unusual for a man to be pregnant, after all,” he smiled, mocking and consoling himself. “I won’t be able to brew my potions, or I might need suggestions….”

“I understand.”

“It would be of great help knowing that I can use your expertise,” Draco said. “And the children might ask your help–they are curious and lively, you see. Harry might need you.”

“Potter,” Severus spat out, full of bitterness.

Draco considered the fact that portraits were living in a state of frozen emotions mimicking their past lives. He still needed to be sure of something.

“He forgave you, you know.”

“The great and merciful saviour. Should I kneel on the border of my frame?”

“He forgave you,” Draco repeated, holding back the bitter tears in his eyes. Sentimentality wouldn’t affect Snape’s judgement. “He is merciful, and he named his beloved son after you, Albus Severus, to carry your legacy, to allow others to know about your bravery and what you did for him and for all of us. He is a great man.”

“I still don’t see a reason why–”

“Because you won’t be forgotten!” Draco insisted. “This way you won’t be forgotten. They will always know who you were and what you did and isn’t this the greatest gift one can give to the deceased? Harry gave it to you.”

The portrait stood still. When a single tear fell down Draco’s eye and landed on his lips, he didn’t comment on it.

“I knew about the boy’s origins,” he said, finally. “I knew that he was abandoned and that the healers who took care of him decided to call him that to honor two previous Headmasters.”

“Yes, but it was me and Harry–we decided to keep the names, we could have changed them, and… we decided to pay tribute to you. My point still stands.”

The painted Snape stared at him and nodded.

“Inform me, when my help is required,” he murmured, before disappearing.

Draco sighed.

*

Around the end of March and by the beginning of April, Draco’s belly was visibly swollen, a clear testimony of his ongoing pregnancy. He was joined by an assistant in his classroom for the preparation of the most difficult and potentially harmful potions. Snape peeped out from his portrait from time to time to ensure that everything was going well.

His long weekends became an occasion to rest, while he still charged himself with the corrections of the students’ long scrolls. He still had a fully functioning brain and theory wasn’t harmful at all.

On Sunday morning, when Draco slept until nine and the boys were running around somewhere else, Harry would take long walks to Hogsmeade, where he bought his husband’s favorite types of chocolate and the latest issue of Quidditch Camp. Then he would go to the edge of the Forbidden Forest where he sat in the sunlight, on the ground made soft by newly fallen leaves.

Harry was giving treats to the Thestrals when Scorpius popped up.

“Hey, Dad!”

Harry turned around in surprise. Among the tree trunks and branches, he spotted Scorpius' thin frame walking towards him.

“Hey, Scorp,” he greeted. “Did someone see you sneak out of the castle?”

The boy shook his head, sat down next to him.

Harry enjoyed the unexpected company, threw a piece of meat at the nearest Thestral.

“How many are there?” Scorpius asked. “Are they close? What are they doing?”

“There are five,” Harry said. “They’re pretty big and they’re eating and walking on the grass. There’s also a small one; it’s getting closer to you.”

Scorpius smiled and squeezed his eyes in a futile attempt to see the baby Thestral going towards him. He could only notice the furrows left on the ground and nothing else.

“I wish I could see him!” he sighed.

“I don’t,” Harry replied, sharply.

Scorpius turned to him, worried by the change in his tone, and Harry patted his shoulder.

“They are good animals. Definitely underappreciated and not evil like people say, but to see them… it means that you’ve already seen death. And I don’t want that for you or for your brother.”

“I know,” Scorpius shrugged, hiding his hands in his pocket.

He came closer to lean his blond head against his father’s chest.

“Is something bothering you?” Harry asked, very softly.

“Not really.”

“You can tell me if you’re confused or sad, there’s nothing wrong with that. You can tell me anything, Scorpius.”

“I know, it’s just….” the boy sighed and closed his eyes. “It’s just strange that everything is changing. You don’t work with the Aurors anymore and Papa is… we’ll be five people by the end of this year at Hogwarts.”

“We will. Does that scare you?”

“A bit, maybe,” Scorpius replied. “I don’t know what it will be like. Me and Al–we were together from the start, it was always like that! Now we’ll be brothers to another kid and… I don’t know, I was just wondering.”

“It will be alright,” Harry whispered, stroking his shiny blond hair. “It’s something new, of course. Your sibling is going to look up to you and Al, but you won’t be alone in this. Me and Papa are going to be there every step of the way.”

“Mmhh….”

Scorpius felt warm and sleepy against his chest.

“Was it like that for us too?” he asked. “Papa always tells the story of how he went to St. Mungo's to have a child and came back with–”

“–Two,” Harry grinned. “He loves that story. He loves you and your brother, very much.”

“You haven’t answered my question though. Was it the same, with me and Albus, as it is now with the baby?”

“No, it wasn’t. We were younger and more afraid, you two were… quite a challenge, at the beginning.”

Scorpius arched his eyebrows in a perfect replica of the “ _puzzled Malfoy_ ” trademark expression. Harry chuckled.

“Your father and I were afraid to be unfit as parents,” he confessed to his son.

“Why? You were always great.”

“It’s so nice to hear that from you, Cori. But you see, you and Al were so little and it was our first time as parents. Sometimes things get messed up even with if one has the best intentions. It happens because people are flawed, parents too. We loved you very much and wanted to do our best, but didn’t quite know what our best was. We learned eventually, hopefully. Now we have a bit of parenting practice.”

“It will help with this new baby?”

“We hope so. We can’t know yet. We’re taking it as it comes just like you.”

Scorpius looked up at him, inquiring green eyes obscured by his fringe.

“Okay,” he finally sighed. “I guess I understand. I wish… I want to be helpful too, with Papa.”

“You are,” Harry said, kissing his head.

The baby Thestral’s nose brushed against Scorpius’ knuckles and the boy giggled.

*

“They are the best children in the world, the really are.”

Harry smiled, clutching at his husband who was supine on the mattress, his long legs stretched out, his feet resting on a wooden wardrobe.

The Room of Requirement was as he remembered it and quite different at the same time. To please its current guests, the room had recreated an environment similar to what Harry recalled from his fifth year at Hogwarts, but it had also changed some details, in the arrangement of objects and space distribution, so that not everything seemed identical to the past, to what it was before the Fiendfyre.

He and Draco had returned to the Room of Requirements a month after the beginning of their stay at Hogwarts. The memory of the fire was still vivid in Draco’s mind, and his pace had faltered when Harry took him by the hand to lead him inside.

At first they stood still at the entrance, looking around. Draco had whispered something about a bird that Harry didn’t quite catch. Then they split, both engaged in their investigation of the new furnishings, their apparent provenance and disposition. When they finally spotted the bed, huge and with clean white sheets, they laughed. And they made love on it.

It had been a beautiful, warm autumn afternoon. Remembering it filled Harry with contentment and he sighed, happily snuggled against Draco’s chest.

“I don’t suppose I can be… impartial,” his husband was explaining. “Scorpius and Albus truly seem more talented than their peers. Or maybe it’s my pride talking.”

“I think it’s your pride–I feel it too. But can you be fair in the end, when it comes to House points?”

Draco sighed.

“I can pretend.”

Harry laughed, placing a kiss on his abdomen. The baby was moving under his fingertips, he felt the slight vibrations and shifts on the skin.

“I believe this is where she started to exist,” Draco whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“In this room. Do you remember that afternoon when we first came here?”

Harry held his breath and looked up to the high ceiling, white and blue as the springtime sky. He turned to Draco.

“Are you sure?”

“I believe so, if my calculations are correct.”

“Love….”

Harry pressed another kiss on his swollen belly, levered on his arms and pushed forward to reach Draco’s face, to kiss his lips. The baby kicked and they smiled at each other.

“I feel so sleepy now,” Draco sighed, closing his eyes

“We’re going to our room and you’re going to rest.”

“I should look out for the students.”

“I’ll do that, you need to sleep.”

Draco opened his eyes, shiny and gray, Harry studied the light he saw in them.

“What?” he asked.

“Do you think that the room sensed… do you think that a baby is what we need?”

Harry thought about the answer as he let a hand wander along the soft silhouette of his husband and between his legs.

“I don’t know about needed. Wanted, yes.”

“I do worry sometimes… that it will be like the first time, with Scorpius. That I won't feel good enough inside my body, in my mind.”

“Draco, if you feel like that….”

“I don’t,” he whispered, stroking Harry’s lips. “I don’t know where I found this strength, but I’m loving the life we led these past months. I'm loving myself,” Harry kissed him. "And perhaps I’m more at ease with myself because I’ve been here before, I know what is like. Perhaps because we have Scorpius and Albus. They were such a joy as toddlers, do you remember? The way Albus used to chew on his sleeve and fall asleep in your arms….”

“The way Scorpius smiled at each discovery, the way he danced to music. Yeah, I won’t ever forget.”

“I didn’t believe it was possible again. I thought we were done with small children around the house.”

“Are you happy that is happening again?”

“Yes,” Draco smiled. “Yes, I am.”

“But if you feel anxious or you start experiencing dysmorphia, tell me? Please?”

“I will, Harry. I promise.”

“I love you,” his husband whispered, kissing him once again. “I’m proud of you and grateful for the family you’re creating for us.”

“You better be, Potter.”

They laughed.

“Yeah, I know.”

*

Draco didn’t experience anxiety or dysmorphia in the weeks that followed, but began to struggle harder with his body endurance and his weight. The back pain became more intense, his breath elaborate after small efforts. Harry gave him ten days of ill-concealed fatigue before calling Pomfrey.

“I can’t believe you did that! I specifically asked you….”

“Not to call anyone,” Harry mumbled, helping his grumpy husband on the bed. Draco’s back had created an hollow on his side. “I didn’t call the healers from St. Mungo's, for example.”

“And I should also thank you for that?” Draco replied, raising a blond eyebrow. After helping him lie down, Harry placed a pillow under his ankles. “I asked you not to! They’ll force me to stay in bed forever!”

“They won’t force you and, even if they do… Draco, it’s about your health. You look too tired and heavy.”

“So you think I’m fatter than I should be.”

“Not what I meant,” Harry tucked Draco firmly into the bed. “But you aren’t a light weight anymore, love.”

“I should be furious for what you just said.”

“But you can’t be because you’re too tired to even get angry.”

Harry pressed his lips against his husband’s sweaty forehead before going to open the door to Poppy Pomfrey, who arrived in their room equipped with medicinal potions.

“Professor Malfoy, you look absolutely dreadful,” she began, staring at him for a minute before waving her wand.

“Thank you,” he replied.

Draco granted Harry permission to assist with an annoyed pout. As he had accurately predicted, the stress of the advanced pregnancy was weakening his constitution and it would have been wiser to rest as much as possible.

Although almost all the practical tasks of potions making had been handed over to the assistant, Draco was still in charge of the theoretical part of the discipline and the evaluation of the students. His struggles needed to be decreased though, as his body was no longer able to tolerate high stress levels.

“Therefore I recommend rest,” Madame Pomfrey concluded, putting away her wand. “And I believe you should see a specialised healer, Professor Malfoy. My experience with wizards’ pregnancy only goes so far.”

“Thank you, Madame Pomfrey,” Harry replied, accompanying her to the door.

Draco was softly cursing both of them.

They had just come out of the room when a breathless first-year student reached them.

“Professor Potter!” she exclaimed, letting the red and yellow scarf slip away from her sweaty neck. “Two students are punching each other!”

Pomfrey and Harry hurried down the stairs and, within few minutes, they reached the courtyard where a small crowd had gathered around the fighting students, some busy separating the contestants, others inciting them to violence.

Harry raised one hand and the small crowd opened for him. The Defense professor took by the shirt a boy who was still kicking and blindly punching the air and separated two more students. Spread on the ground, his nose broken and covered in blood, was his son, Albus.

*

“Dad, if you let me explain….”

Harry accelerated his pace, rushing up to the stairs that led to the Gryffindor Tower, glaring at the portraits who were trying to spy on them.

“Dad!”

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” he replied without looking back. Albus was behind him, struggling to keep up. “You’ll go to Papa and explain to him.”

Albus exhaled nervously, but kept on following his father. Together they reached the east end of the Gryffindor tower, where the professors’ room was located. Once at the door, Harry glanced at his son; his broken nose had been healed, but his lips and nostrils still had traces of blood. He took out a handkerchief from his pocket, when the bedroom door opened and Albus rushed in.

“What happened?” Draco asked, trembling with rage and apprehension, once his eyes rested on his son’s face. “Harry, tell me now.”

“A brawl between boys,” the ex-Auror explained and, by the tone of his voice, Albus realised that his dad would have done everything to minimize the damages and protect him, in spite of everything.

“A brawl between boys,” his other father repeated, slowly.

Albus opened his mouth to speak, but Draco's cold gaze silenced him. He was lying in bed, a soft white blanket on his legs and cushions behind his back to offer a comfortable support. Yet Albus had never found him so threatening.

“Go on, Harry.”

“Nothing serious, really. The other boys don’t bear signs of magic, just slight contusions. Pomfrey took them to the infirmary just to be sure, but they seem to be fine.”

“How many?”

“Three.”

“Three,” Draco repeated again. “Leave me alone with our son, please.”

Harry searched for his husband’s eyes and stared at them for a long moment, before nodding and taking his leave.

Albus had remained standing still in front of his parents’ bed, his face pale but his cheeks flushed with rage. No one had heard his explanation, no one had yet allowed him to justify his actions. He didn't start the fight.

“I didn’t start the fight!” he hurried, clenching his fists in tight knots.

“And that should be enough for me?” his father replied. “Come closer now, Albus, let me clean your face.”

“I didn’t start it!” the boy repeated, trembling. “It was Justin and then the others arrived, but it wasn’t my fault! I didn't start, I didn’t–”

Draco raised his wand and pushed his son towards him. Without needing to speak, he had floated a bowl of water and dipped a white napkin in it. Then he had carefully pressed the wet napkin on his son’s nose and chin.

“Does it hurt?”

“Dad already fixed it.”

“Your father’s healing spells are pitiful,” Draco murmured, waving his wand once more.

Albus felt the familiar warm pressure of his papa’s magic and closed his eyes, exhaling a long breath. His nasal septum felt whole again.

“It should be fine now,” Draco whispered. His healing magic had always been gentle and incredibly effective. The peculiar energy of a hawthorn wand, he used the say. “Explain yourself now,” he commanded.

“I was in the courtyard, studying,” Albus began, suddenly feeling smaller in front of his disappointed father. “When Justin Belby approached. He started to say things at me, saying that I was the professors’ sweetheart and that’s why Slytherin got twenty points only this morning, because it was a gift for me!” he recalled, furiously. “I ignored him. I didn’t want to give him any satisfaction! Him and his stupid lame friends, but then… then he….”

“Then he did what?”

Albus looked down at his shoes.

“Then he said something about you.”

Draco swallowed a sob. He had expected something like that to happen during his time at Hogwarts. Scorpius and Albus were undoubtedly in a position of advantage, sons of not one but two teachers. With all his strength he had tried to show himself fair and just, to treat his sons with kind indifference, as the other students were treated, at least during his classes. He was aware, still, that similar “ _accidents_ ” would have happened anyway. Children were prone to jealousy. He remembered that all too well.

“So you attacked him?” he asked, tried to maintain control over his voice and expression. It would have been counterproductive to show worry.

“I didn’t use any magic! I was about to take out my wand, but he was faster and… he landed me, so I hit him. It wasn’t my fault!”

“Albus Severus, I won’t reply to such a childish claim.”

“But it’s not childish, it’s true!” the boy cried out. “Don’t you want to know what he… what he said about you?”

“No.”

“I didn’t want him to hurt you!”

“Do you really believe that a boy’s words could ever hurt me?”

His son bowed his head, hot ashamed tears falling down his cheeks.

“Albus, come here.”

Draco took his face in his hands, tenderly caressing him and drying his tears. He pressed a kiss against the healed nose.

“My darling,” he whispered. “There’s nothing they could say about me that could ever hurt me. As long as you and Scorpius are safe and strong, so am I.”

“I don’t want them to say…these things about you…I….”

“You’re brave, just like your dad,” Draco smiled and opened his arms to let his son nestle between them, press his wet face against his chest and his bended knees on the mattress.

“Slytherins are not brave!”

“Now you offend your House and me, your own father,” he joked. “Albus, I need you to be more cunning than them,” he urged, raising his son’s chin to look at him in the eyes. “They will always say things about me, you know that, but you have to prove them wrong by being successful, clever and better than them. Rage will burn their guts, but they won’t do anything to you as long as you have the upper hand.”

Albus’ eyes widened. They were a peculiar brown color interspersed with green. They looked a bit similar to Harry’s eyes, in a strange way, beautiful and full of emotion and reckless courage.

“I’m not asking you to bury your pride, but rather to channel it into a more useful fashion. And be more sneaky! A fistfight in the courtyard, really? You can’t get away with that!”

“Papa!”

“We are Slytherins, son, we’ll prevail even if not immediately.”

Albus blinked at him, a bit stunned, then grinned. He buried his nose in his father’s sweet-smelling chest and pressed a hand against the baby bump. His knuckles were still bruised from the fight, but Draco wouldn’t fixed them just yet. His son could use a bit of fierce looking aesthetic.

“The baby will be born in June, right?” he asked. “Before or after the finals?”

“I can’t know that,” Draco chuckled.

“Yeah, I know. I just hope I’ll be there. I’m excited!”

“I know,” his papa said, pressing a kiss on his forehead.

*

During the first week of May, Draco had to completely give up his duties as Potions Master. The effort of his late pregnancy wouldn't have allowed him to do otherwise and McGonagall insisted that his replacement was more than suitable for the job.

In order to maintain his sanity, the Slytherin offered private lessons to the students who requested them. In his room, as he was forced to rest, and no more than a couple of hours per day. His theoretical knowledge was still intact, despite the condition of his body, and tutoring would help struggling young students as well as him.

To compensate for the absence of his pregnant spouse, Harry had taken Draco’s duties in patrolling the corridors and helping around the castle, especially during the weekends when he had no lessons to worry about. Draco wasn’t enthusiastic about his decision, but he could very well understand how frustrating was to spend an entire weekend in inactivity, a state to which he was momentarily condemned.

“I want to die,” Draco exhaled, leaning against the pillows in a theatrical way. He hated those pillows and the whole bed now. “I want this to end. It’s all your fault, Potter. You ruined me once again!”

Harry raised his arms in surrender, without trying to reply to the accusation. He knew how much Draco was becoming susceptible to the nerves and he couldn’t blame him. He too would have gone insane in a similar state of boredom.

“I’m reaching the size of a whale! I’m stuck in this bed, boring myself to death, eating chocolates. Stop bringing me so many chocolates, Harry!”

The ex-Auror didn’t want to point out that the chocolates had been loudly requested by the currently complaining husband. He nodded, showing true sympathy and understanding, while he kept on tidying the room.

Hermione explained to him that a neat and balanced personal space could help a pregnant person and soothe his mind. Harry wasn't very convinced of it, given Draco’s ability to be infuriating, but he wasn’t going to stop trying anytime soon.

“I hate this!” Draco protested, munching a biscuit. His face was rounder, his softer chin had blunted the sharpest corners of his features, giving him a younger appearance. “Nobody comes to see me.”

It was a lie. Ron and Hermione visited the previous Saturday and so did Pansy, Greg and Luna. McGonagall had tolerated the arrivals with great patience.

“Maybe you’re in for a surprise,” Harry whispered, kissing a frowned brow before heading to the courtyard.

He saw her walking outside from the window, surrounded by a group of students asking for an autograph, wearing big sunglasses and fashionable jeans: Ginny Weasley.

He met her on the stairs leading to the Gryffindor Tower. Ginny had remained a bundle of well-trained muscles with an eternally young face covered with freckles.

“Hey, Harry!” she greeted him, holding out her arms. “I was about to go upstairs, but your students blocked me in the yard. They are big fans of the Harpies.”

“They are,” he replied, hugging her tightly. “Draco is waiting for you.”

“Is he really so frustrated with this pregnancy that he’s happy to see me?”

“He was glad to see Ron.”

Ginny opened her mouth, impressed.

She put the sunglasses in her bag and climbed the stairs alongside Harry.

“Is there any hope to see my favorite almost-Weasleys?”

“Al and Cori are in Hogsmeade,” Harry replied. “They had a stressful week because of homework and the upcoming exams study sessions. They needed a bit of fun.”

The witch nodded. Once she arrived at the door, she knocked and heard an impatient grunt from the inside of her friends’ room.

“He's tired and bored,” Harry said. “He had to face this unexpected pregnancy almost all alone and to see a familiar face would be so helpful. He needs distraction.”

“Say no more!”

“Thank you, Gin.”

Ginny smiled. “You’re lucky to have each other,” she said, hugging her friend before entering the room.

The spring sun filtered through the glass windows, drawing a veil of light around Draco’s curvy silhouette.

“Yet another Weasley to bring me joy,” he greeted dramatically.

“You know we live to cheer you up, Draco,” she replied.

Draco exhaled a loud sigh before his lips bent into a sincere smile.

“I’m glad you came,” he confessed.

Ginny smiled and sat in a corner of the bed, next to Draco’s legs.

“I brought presents to the boys, the new Harpies shirts, and something for their friends too.”

“That’s very kind of you, Ginevra.”

“How is your baby-making proceeding?”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“My back is currently killing me and my ankles are swollen. I get so bored during the week, when Harry is not around, and this damned tower is entirely covered in red drapes! That’s such a monotonous, vulgar choice of color and the Founders should have predicted that the decor would have blown someone’s nerves. I never, ever want to see a golden crest in my life again. Ever!”

“You’re stressed, I get it.”

Draco glared at her.

“I’m the size of an elephant. I’d love to see you manage that!”

“Not likely and not now,” Ginny replied, blinking furiously at the idea of herself being pregnant. “You know how much my mum would love to see more kids at the Burrows, especially kids coming from me, but I don’t think that motherhood suits me. Not now, anyway.”

“You don’t have to feel obliged. Your mother has many grandchildren.”

“She has.”

“Are you on tour with the Harpies?”

“I’ll start on Monday. I’m very excited.”

Draco closed his eyes to picture the blue sky above his head, the sensation of wind against his face, in his hair, the feeling of letting go completely.

“I would give everything to get on a broom now.”

“This summer,” Ginny tried. “This summer you’ll fly again. You just have to wait a bit more.”

Draco sighed. He turned in the direction of the golden sun setting on the horizon, his hands fastened on his swollen belly.

“You look good,” Ginny murmured. “One could say that you look radiant.”

“Do I?” he inquired, turning to her again. Now he was caressing his belly. “I suppose I am. I’m happy.”

“Despite everything?”

“Yes.”

Ginny nodded.

“And how did it happen anyway?” she asked.

Draco shrugged.

“The healers believe it was an effect of Hogwarts ancient magic combined with my compatibility to Harry. Or maybe it was the potions I was brewing at the time, they could have been instrumental to the conception. In any case, I’m pregnant. The deed is done.”

Ginny nodded once more and looked around. The room was filled with books, Hermione’s gift to distract Draco. On the wall next to the desk where a pile of parchments lay, there was a Slytherin crest and scented white candles.

“Pansy’s gifts,” Draco explained, intercepting her gaze. “She knows how sensitive I am to awful smells and Gryffindor red.”

“Oh please, as if you still hate us that much!”

“Don’t make wrong assumptions, Weasley.”

Ginny rolled her eyes.

“You really are happy though,” she said. “I can see that in your eyes. Is this what you wanted?”

“I didn’t plan for it but … yes, this is what I want,” he whispered. “Scorpius and Albus are grown up now and I thought that having a baby wasn’t going to happen again. I’m happy that I’ve got a second chance.”

Ginny looked at him thoughtfully and studied the movements of his hands on his protuberant belly.

“I know this is annoying and vaguely offensive to those who are pregnant,” she began. “But can I…” she didn’t finish the question, just raised her hand towards Draco.

He took it and pressed against his abdomen.

“Oh!” she exhaled.

Draco pressed a bit more strongly, to let her feel the movements of the baby inside.

“It’s… in there! Any ideas about the name?”

“Few.”

“Is she a girl?”

“Apparently.”

“Any ideas about the possible godfather or mother?”

Draco smirked knowingly.

“As you very well know, Ron and Pansy are Albus’ godparents while Hermione and Luna are Scorpius’. Harry has way too many good friends he would love to please but I must say that… occasions could arise for the brave at heart, if he or she proves herself worthy.”

“I’ll be an excellent godmother and spoil your kid rotten.”

“I haven’t said anything,” Draco smiled. “But yes, I do know that. And now, if you please, tell me everything about this Quidditch season. I can’t bear to talk about my pregnancy anymore.”

*

Finally it came the long-awaited month of June, the last one at Hogwarts and Draco’s last stage of the pregnancy.

As the due time approached closer and closer, even his tutoring ended. Draco decided to dedicate all his attention to the preparations needed for event. He contacted a renowned healer and a midwife specialised in cases like his own, offering to pay for their stay at Hogsmeade for an entire week, during which the childbirth would take place.

He decided to finish at Hogwarts what he had started there. With a bit of persuasion and another concession from McGonagall, he obtained what he wanted.

Draco devoted himself to something that he had deliberately or unconsciously ignored for months: the preparations once the baby had arrived. The color of her room, her little crib, her dresses. The professors’ bedroom in the Gryffindor Tower became packed with magazines and photos.

Draco started to sleep a bit more, especially during the afternoons. After those naps, he was usually visited by Albus and Scorpius, who were concerned with their father’s health and trying to cheer him up.

Draco loved those visits more than anything, and, as he spent time with his children, explaining them what was about to happen and how they were preparing to it, he gently parted from some of the most intense nine months of his life.

Before going to the library, Harry found the boys in his room. Albus was sitting on the bed, his head nestled on Draco’s shoulder, Scorpius was on his feet, mimicking something with frantic gestures and hilarious facial expressions that made his father and brother laugh.

His theatrical, happy son, Harry mused. Scorpius’ ability to tell a story was impressive and surely something he inherited from Draco.

He closed the door and walked down the lonely corridor. He sat down on a bench. Sadness wasn’t an unusual feeling for him, the burden all those years unloved and scared still in his heart. His family, his wonderful boys and his caring husband, were such sources of joy and their light chased away all the darkness. But it was still there, at times.

A voice from a frame interrupted his thoughts.

“Good evening, Harry.”

Harry would have known that voice everywhere.

“Professor Dumbledore,” he whispered, raising his head. For some reasons, he felt the urge to cry.

“It’s nice to see you again. I hope that Hogwarts is treating you well.”

Harry didn’t reply, and choked back a sob.

“If you want to have some time alone…”

“Stay,” Harry said and lowered his head, starting at his knuckles. His hands were rougher from the years passed, but Umbridge’s scar was still there. Proof that he had lived his past, that it wasn’t a nightmare. “I wanted to… forty years old and still I want your help, at times. I wished you were here,” he confessed.

“I don’t think there’s anything I could ever teach you, Harry. You did so much better than me. I see the fruits of your bravery and generosity in your sons.”

Harry raised his head.

“Yes, I’ve seen them,” the portrait explained. “I was careful not to intrude, your sons don’t need to be spied by an old portrait. But I saw them and I marveled at the ways they look and behave like you. I was not fit to love, I have never loved without causing damage… you do.”

This time Harry couldn’t suppress his sob.

“I trusted you,” he whispered. “I trusted you, and you sent me to die.”

There were times when he dreamed he was in Forbidden Forest again heading to the sacrifice. In his dreams he looked around in search of something, someone, to save him from death. Still marched on to meet Voldemort, unable to stop himself.

When Albus and Scorpius were around six or seven, he started to dream about seeing them in the forest, leaving his own sons to their deaths. He woke up sweating and trembling, shaken by an unspeakable fear. It took time to confess everything to his husband, he was afraid that Draco would have been disgusted by his dreams, scared of what his husband’s brain was able to produce during sleep.

“You did it,” he forced out, breathlessly. “You sent me there to die.”

Tears fell down the portrait’s face. Harry was surprised, he didn’t know that portraits could have cried, that Dumbledore could have cried.

“How could you? Have you ever loved me?” he asked.

“I did, I… Eleven years old, and you were so brave. So good. You walked uncomplainingly along the path that had been laid at your feet. Of course I loved you, but I was trying to protect you, I was… I didn’t wish to become attached to you–”

“You were protecting yourself then.”

“I was blind and scared,” Dumbledore said, tears trickling down his crooked nose. “I knew that a sacrifice had to be made and I didn’t want to… to mourn you, Harry. I was protecting myself, yes.”

“I named my son after you, I… loved you.”

“I know,” the portrait said and smiled through the tears. “And I’m grateful for that.”

Harry closed his eyes, accepting the words, the long denied truth of his relationship with Dumbledore, the man who shaped his character. When he opened them, the portrait was empty.

*

On the evening of June 12th, Draco left his bedroom in the Gryffindor Tower and was welcomed into the space of the infirmary set for his childbirth. Five hours later, his daughter was born.

*

“She’s really small,” Albus noted, looking at his baby sister from above, touching a miniature hand with his finger.

It was a starry quiet night, the moonlight was oozing from the infirmary windows and Draco was sitting in one of the beds, rocking a tiny bundle in his arms.

Scorpius and Albus were sitting next to him, still in their pyjamas, Harry was standing beside them, staring at his husband and their newly-born child, unable to take his eyes off them. He had already cried openly as he saw Draco holding the child for the first time, and he felt calmer now.

“She’ll grow up in time,” Draco murmured, smiling at his son. “She’s perfectly healthy.”

“What’s her name?” Scorpius asked.

“Her name is Alhena Lily Narcissa.”

 _“Alhena?_ ” Albus inquired turning to his dad. “What does that mean?”

Harry shrugged, amused.

“Oh, oh!” Scorpius chirped. “I think I know! Alhena is Gamma Geminorum, the third brightest star from the constellation of Gemini which is also Papa’s zodiacal sign and… you did it on purpose!”

His parents grinned.

“You are correct, darling,” Draco said. “Alhena is the third brightest star of Gemini. Your father and I thought it was an apt metaphor since we have three children.”

“That’s nice,” Albus smiled, sleepily.

As the rush of adrenaline passed, the boys were starting to yawn.

“Yes, and now it’s time to go to the bed,” Harry said, ruffling their hair. “You’ll see your papa tomorrow morning.”

The boys met their waiting friends in the corridor and rushed to their respective dormitories, chatting about the news.

Harry leaned on Draco.

“It’s time for you to rest too,” he whispered, pressing a kiss against his brow. “You were so strong today. I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Draco replied.

Poppy Pomfrey came to take Alhena from his arms and mused on how beautiful she was. Draco smiled brightly at her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a prettier baby,” he sighed, as Harry tucked him on the bed. “She’s perfect.”

“She is,” Harry smiled, kissing his closing eyes.

Before falling asleep, Draco added another observation.

“She has my nose.”

Harry grinned.

*

It was a starry, wonderful night. Hermione and Ron’s owl, Pigwidgeon the Third, had arrived earlier to carry their congratulations. Scorpius and Albus were probably asleep in their dorms, after telling their friends absolutely everything about their baby sister.

Harry sat down in the yard and sighed, staring at the sky.

“Congratulations are in order, I believe.”

He turned around. Minerva McGonagall’s pointy hat was lit by the moonlight, her smile was the widest Harry had ever seen. He jumped up from his seat and hugged her tightly.

“Thank you, Headmistress. You did so much for me and Draco, you allowed us to stay here! It meant a lot.”

“And still, after a year of working with me, you can’t call me Minerva.”

Harry blushed, nodded.

“Minerva, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Harry.”

“We caused you a lot of trouble,” he suggested with a half smile. “It was our first year as professors and look what you had to deal with.”

“Oh well,” the Headmistress sighed, patting his shoulder. “I’ve seen worse.”

 

*

*

_Dear Diary,_

_My name is Alhena Lily Narcissa ✿✿ and I’m eight years old– almost nine. I like treacle tart, chips, and unicorns._

_I have two older brothers: Scorpius and Albus. Scorpius is funny and he always brings me candy. He likes History and ~~Alk~~ Alchemy and his job is to write long papers about those. Albus is ~~myoldest older~~ the oldest brother and he’s an Auror just like Daddy was. _ _They always say that Daddy was an Auror first, but now he’s a teacher and he’s very happy._

_I live in Hogwarts because my Daddy and Papa work here._

_Hogwarts is also the place where I was born. It’s very special because nobody is born here but I was. Hogwarts is the best place in the world, Daddy always says so._

_My Daddy’s name is Harry, ~~his~~ he’s very handsome, funny and has the best smile. He lets me fly with him and it’s fun even if a little scary, but I know that he will always protect me and never let me fall._

_Daddy Harry has a beard and that’s a bit itchy sometimes but other times it feels soft. I like to touch Daddy’s beard and face because he always smiles when I do that._

_My Papa’s name is Draco and he’s the prettiest. He has soft blond hair–his hair is even softer than Daddy’s beard when it’s soft–and he always wears nice suits and likes silver jewellery. He has the nicest smell too and says that I’m his princess._

_People say that Papa is scary sometimes, but that’s not true. He’s so nice with me and Al and Scorp. He likes to snuggle._

_More things about me: I have black hair and grey eyes, I’m short, I have a white kitty called Ferry, and I like to play with him._

_When the school ends, me and Papa and Daddy go to our other house in the countryside. There it’s very nice and it’s all for us. Sometimes my aunts and uncles come to visit, and sometimes Teddy comes to visit. When Al finishes his work he comes and Scorpius stays with us too. When we are all there, Daddy is the happiest. I’m happy too._

_I have to go now._

_Bye_

_A. L. N._

_This diary belongs to me!! Nobody can read it without my permission!_

_Uncle George is teaching me something to make sure no one does so… KEEP OUT._

_But in case you happen to read this_

_My birthday is in three weeks and this is the list of things I want as birthday gift:_

  * _the new Make Me Witchy doll (The one with the pink dress)_

  * _colors for painting_

  * _fairy wings_

  * _a puppy_

  * _a Unicorn_




_Just so you know._

_Bye!_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! You can show your appreciation for the author in a comment here or on [livejournal](https://harrydracompreg.livejournal.com/312901.html). ♥
> 
> This story is part of an on-going anonymous fest hosted at harrydracompreg on livejournal. The author will be revealed June 17th.


End file.
